Hungry for the Hunger Games
by subliminal shady
Summary: Success is my only motherf*ckin' option, failure's not. That's what Kat Van Evermean and her friend Foxx know. When a tattooed chick from D12 gets reaped along with a redheaded rapper girl D5 get reaped in the same Games, what happens? Lots of blood-spitting, randomness, and Eminem mashups. And I haven't even gotten started on Cato.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, this is it: Hungry for the Hunger Games! **

**I don't own The Hunger Games, but I own Katrina Van Evermean, Tramp Mellark, Tom Hawthorne, and Bethany Flatiron. I kind of own Haymitch Abernathy because (you'll see) I changed him a bit... ****I do not own Taylor Swift or I Knew You Were Trouble, either. **

* * *

**Katrina Van Evermean**

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. And I mean COLD. Like, FREEZING. Who cares that it's only fall? It's too cold. And someone stole my blankets.

"Tess, turn up the fucking heat!" I yell at my twelve-year old step sister, Tess Van Evermean. I hear her groan as she gets up. Typical Tess. My witty, outspoken, slightly overweight step sister. She cranks up the heat, but there's no chance that we're going back to sleep. By we, I mean our dog (who we didn't even bother naming) me, and Tess. That's right, we're orphans. What's it to you?

"Happy BestDayEver day," I mumble into my pillow. Tess somehow hears me.

"Thanks, Katrina. I can't wait. I really want to get drawn, so I can see the Capitol!" She pulls my pillow away from me. Her dark eyes are shining. One of her dark-skinned arms is pulling me out of bed. "Let's go to Tom's tattoo place!" That sure gets me out of bed.

"Sure," I say. "But don't call me Katrina. I like to be called Kat."

"Of course!" she says, hyper as usual. Maybe more.

"Damn, Tess," I say. "Are you on crack?"

"No! What's crack?" she asks. I roll my eyes.

"Never mind. Let me get dressed," I say. I stand up and gather my clothes. My usual pair of dark, ripped skinny jeans, a tight black shirt, and a pair of boots are all I need. When I'm dressed, I put on my usual makeup. Very dark makeup. Even though Tess calls it my "badass eyeliner" I still wear it. And I'm ready!

Hours later, I now have a tattoo of a fistful of arrows on my chest. I also have a barbed-wire tattoo on my left bicep. There. I look beautiful. All Tess got was a simple tattoo that said (what else) 'Tess' in cursive.

"Tess," I call. "Get over here." She falls for it and comes. I attack her with blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner...

"I look like a fudging raccoon," Tess says.

"If you want to cuss, cuss," I say through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Fucking raccoon."

"That's better."

* * *

"Hey, Kat," says Tom Hawthorne, my very best friend. He's the friendliest, sexiest guy in 12. He's so amazing. And he just gave me and Tess free tattoos, so even better! "Your hair looks great." I run my fingers through my long, straight dark blonde hair.

"Thanks! What's up with you, Tom?" I grin at him. He hugs me. He's a very affectionate person. Always nice and such.

"I can't wait for the BestDayEver day reaping!" Tom says. "I won a bet!" I laugh. He's always betting people stuff. He always wins. "You know who lost? Tramp Mellark."

"He knows what a bet is?" I snicker. Tramp Mellark is like, the poorest guy in 12. Hate him. He's strong, and he has adorable white-blond hair, but he's not that right in the head. Everyone says he talks to birds. Insane, much?

"Yeah, apparently," says Tom. "If I get drawn -since he lost- he has to volunteer for me."

"Well shit," I say. "Hope you get drawn, then." We enjoy a good laugh together before someone taps the microphone. We look up into the familiar face of Bethany Flatiron, the District Twelve escort for the Panemic Games. She has long, scarily straight royal blue hair, green lipstick, and twenty piercings all over her body. I can only see about twelve.

"Welcome!" she trills. "I'm so _honored _to be here, goodness, I might _faint! _I'm so glad to see you all here on BestDayEver day, even though attendance is mandatory! I bet you all really want to be tributes, but most of you are too old! Or too dumb! Or just too ugly! And there're only two tributes!" She takes a breath and sighs dramatically into the microphone, which sounds like a tornado.

"Wonder who'll get picked?" I say brightly to Tom. We burst out into laughter for no reason. Fortunately, we aren't alone. Our district is very funny. It's like a comedy, living here! We always start laughing for no reason in District Twelve.

Just then, Haymitch Abernathy, the only living victor of 12, staggers onto the stage. He pulls down Mayor Undersee's pants and walks away like he did nothing at all, which is so funny. Tom laughs so hard he pukes. None of us do anything about it. After all, in District Twelve, puking because we're laughing so hard is common. In fact, it happens so much we all carry around garbage bags.

"Hey everyone!" yells Haymitch. "Today's the BestDayEver! According to the Capitol... for me, it's the WorstDayEver."

Which makes Mayor Undersee laugh so hard he pukes too. Thankfully, he's equipped with a trash can.

"Let's draw the name!" calls Bethany Flatiron. She reaches into the reaping ball. The girls' one. "Men first!" she says, obliviously pulling out a slip of paper. She pauses and creates another tornado-like sigh. "KATRINA VAN EVERMEAN! Strange. Odd name for a boy..."

"That's _me_, bitch!" I yell. "And I'm not a boy!" I race to the stage and strike a sexy pose. "WOOHOO!"

I am met by a very awkward silence. In which several people puke.

"Erm, now for the boys!" trills Bethany Flatiron. "Let's see now... Tom Hawthorne!"

"I volunteer as tribute," says a quiet voice. Bethany hears.

"A VOLUNTEEEEEEER!" she shrieks. "Amazing, step right up!" He does. No surprise, it's Tramp Mellark, the guy that lost Tom's bet.

Immediately after stepping up, he vomits all over the stage. Ew, I'd hate to be in the front.

"Shake hands!" calls Bethany, not caring about the puke. Apparently she was educated in District Twelve traditions and culture.

"Hell no," I say. "His is covered in puke."

* * *

Bethany Flatiron pries open the window on the train. "Ahh," she says. "So now we'll assess your skills and-" She freezes with excitement. "Oh, look, a clockingjay!"

Clockingjays are mutated birds. They are cross-bred clocks and mockingbirds. No one knows how a clock and a mockingbird could have sex, or where the 'jay' part came from, but who cares anyway? Every five minutes, every clockingjay on planet Earth sings a pop song. It's different in the different cities and Districts and stuff.

"And it's singing," I say, bored. "What's new?"

And then it starts to sing... Ugh! Taylor Swift!

"Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago, I was in your sights, you got me alone. You fooooound me..."

This is disturbing, coming out of a bird's mouth.

"This is my _favorite song!" _yells Bethany Flatiron. She hangs her upper body out the window, sticking her ass in poor Tramp's face. We both stifle giggles. I hear a loud thump, and a shout of, "STOP THE TRAIN, STOP THE TRAIN!" in a Capitol accent.

"Is this what I think it is, or..." I dare to look out the window. Behind us, Bethany Flatiron is waving her arms like a windmill and yelling for the train to stop.

"Did she just fall out the window?" asks Tramp, grinning. Maybe he isn't _so _crazy.

"Yeah," I say. "And- oh, shit." The train stops, and a very disheveled Bethany Flatiron climbs back in through the window, sitting on our table between me and Tramp.

"That looks like it hurt," I say with sickening fake sweetness. Tramp tries not to laugh.

Bethany stands on the table, looking demented. "This is my _LEAST _favorite song."

* * *

**It gets a lot more mature, so that's why it's rated M. So please be mature. **

**Review? I'd really appreciate it. :D**


	2. Hating Twilight and Making Friends

**Hey, everyone. Mature events warning here for this chapter and all the ones following... just saying, people. Oh, and thanks to everyone who read this! And my other stories, I really appreciate it.**

**I know I missed the goodbyes, but I'll explain that later. And also, if you think the humor is immature, it's supposed to be. Katrina is a pretty immature person... in the first chapter.**

**Oh yeah! And sorry for the long author's note, but I forgot to do a character list!**

**Katrina Van Evermean, (all-around mean girl)= _Katniss Everdeen, (hunter)_**

**Tramp Mellark, (rather insane, if kind, guy)= _Peeta Mellark, (baker) _**

**Tom Hawthorne, (tattoo artist)= _Gale Hawthorne, (hunter)_**

**Tess Van Evermean, (slightly chubby over-friendly girl)= _Primrose Everdeen, (innocent little girl)_**

**Bethany Flatiron, (Taylor Swift fan and something else that will spoil this chapter...)= _Effie Trinket, (escort)_**

**Haymitch Abernathy, (drunk guy and something else that will spoil this chapter...)= _Haymitch Abernathy, (drunk guy)_**

**_The prep team's names have not been changed. Same with Cinna. _**

**The Panemic Games= _The Hunger Games_**

**Panem=_Panem_**

**BestDayEver day=_Reaping day_**

* * *

"All right," says Bethany Flatiron uncertainly. "I'm going to go get Haymitch... you two stay put." Her lime green high heels clacking like nothing just happened, she starts to walk to the bar car. Then she turns around to face us. "I'd advise you to arm yourselves." She click-clacks out of the room.

"Arm ourselves?" asks Tramp. "How the hell should we do that?" He looks at me, an eyebrow raised. Damn, he has the cutest mop of blonde hair I've ever seen...

"Let's get kitchen knives," I say, grabbing a butcher knife. "Any other weapons you see?"

"We need armor," says Tramp, handing me a metal tray. "Here you go." I take it. I slide off my belt - I don't need it anyway - and try to tie the tray to my torso. It's not working out so well. To my embarrassment, my chest is too big for the tray to stay put.

"I'll use that," says Tramp. I trade him. Then I realize that I'm holding a small bowl. I turn beet red as I tie it over my chest. I find a small tray and realize I've run out of belt. Then Tramp tosses me some silver duct tape. I smile gratefully and wrap it around me. I tear it off and hand it back to him. Then I find a small wok pan and put it on my head. Tramp does the same, and we're prepared. We stand by the door, our knives ready, our wok pan helmets covering our eyes. Then someone walks into the room behind us. We spin around. Oops, wrong door.

Haymitch has messy black hair, olive skin, and gray eyes. It's his eyes that creep me out: they're staring at me and Tramp.

I guess five minutes passed, because all the clockingjays are singing Scream and Shout very loudly. "WHEN WE UP IN THE CLUB, ALL EYES ON US. ALL EYES ON US. ALL EYES ON US." Great timing, right? Except this isn't a club, but whatever.

"So," says Haymitch. "I like this one." He prods my wok pan too much while patting my head and it falls off onto his feet. He scowls at it. "She's kind of stuck up. Prissy." He looks at me. All over me. My chest, mostly, still encased in a mixing bowl. I look at the floor, failing to think of any mean remark.

"You were saying..." interrupts Tramp. I'm so grateful.

"Anyway! Prissy, the crowd will love you... but you're gonna need my help." I stare at him. Why is he fucking calling me PRISSY?

"I'm not that dumb. I know we need mentors," I say, trying not to sound whiny.

"And you know how you can get my help?" He grins at me. "You. Me. My bed. Tonight."

"Hell, no," says Tramp. "You aren't going to fuck Prissy... I mean, Kat. She can survive without you." No. Actually I can't. "...right, Kat?" His blue eyes look at me worridly.

"It's a goddamn deal," I spit at Haymitch. "But _just. This. One. Time." _Haymitch chuckles, like the joke's on me. And shit, it is.

"There's no place like hoooome!" shrieks a voice. Bethany is back. "And welcome to mine!"

Oh my God. That's amazing. It's the Capitol. Sparkling buildings, shining windows... I could stare at it forever. And ever. And ever. And ever. And...

"Prissy, you're about to fall out the window," says Haymitch. I'm jerked back to reality and I stick my head back in the train. But before I can close the window, a horrible smell hits me.

"Ugh!" I say, pinching my nose. "What is that?"

"Anti-clockingjay spray," answers Bethany Flatiron.

* * *

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I squeal as my prep team waxes my legs. "HELP ME! SAVE ME!"

"Don't worry!" chirps a guy with electric red locks and green, two-inch fingernails. Flavius, I think his name is. "Look! Now you're pretty!" I look at myself and feel like a hairless cat. I promptly scream again.

"Shush!" says a green haired lady. Venia. "Now for your makeup..."

Later, my stylist comes in, holding a garment bag, which contains my chariot costume. "I'm Cinna. You must be Kat."

"Mm-hm," I mumble.

"What's wrong with your voice?" he asks. I spit out the mouthful of bobby pins my third prep, Octavia, stuck in my mouth. Cinna chuckles quietly and takes out from the bag...

"You aren't scared of rapists, are you?"

* * *

Well, yes. In fact, I am, _dearest wonderful _Cinna. Especially the Capitol-bred ones.

I am wearing a headlamp, and nothing else.

Technically, I'm wearing coal dust, but whatever. Cinna is such a pervert. He applied the coal dust himself. Freak.

Me and Tramp are tied to the chariot. We'll be pulling it through the streets of the Capitol to show how strong we are. It's our first test.

"Ready. Set. Blastoff!" yells Cinna. He used to work for NASA, so he's kind of a space geek.

And we're off. Poor Tramp and I have the most overweight horses ever. They stand on the chariot, and we pull it. This is so fucking hard. Sweat pours down my face as the District Twelve chariot inches along. Those fucking Career's chariots have the most anorexic horses on them, and they're speeding along.

Somehow, three hours later, we're back where we started. The District Eleven girl is shouting, "HALLELUJAH!" I just collapse. Then I see _her. _

She's the girl from District Five. She has dark, straight red hair and greenish eyes. She actually looks friendly. Except she's about to get pounded.

"What do you mean, Nicki Minaj?" she shouts. "She can't rap to save her life!" The guy from District Two raises a fist. Are they arguing about... music? _Rap _music?

I walk over to join them. "Calm down," I tell the District Two guy. He glares at me. "What's this about anyway?"

"Did you know," begins the redheaded girl, glowering at the boy, "that Cato here's favorite rapper is fucking _Nicki Minaj?"_

"He seems the type," I say. The girl cracks up. Cato leaves so I won't infect him with my non-Career germs.

"Yeah," agrees the girl. "What's your name?"

"Kat," I say, grinning at her, wishing I was wearing more. "Kat Van Evermean. What's your name?" The redheaded grimaces and crosses her arms. She's my age, I think.

"You really want to know?" she asks. "Fine. Susan Rosemary."

"Susan Rosemary?" I ask, bewildered.

"Yeah, my parents are so dumb. They should have named me something good." I don't want to know what her definition of 'good' is. "Can you think of any nicknames?"

"Hmm..." I think about it. "Well, your red hair is the color of a fox's. How about Fox?"

"With two Xs," Susan, now Foxx says.

"All right..." I say.

"Oh yeah!" Foxx says, as if remembering something. "I ask this to everyone, but I got distracted with you. Who's your favorite rapper?"

"I've never heard rap," I say.

"What?" Foxx shrieks. Everyone's looking at us. "How are you _alive? _I mean, I know you're in an outer district, but still. I couldn't live without rap." She looks very troubled that I haven't heard rapping. "All right. Who is your favorite singer?"

"I don't have one," I tell her. "I like a lot."

"Oh, that's cool," she says. "But I better name some rappers for you. You've probably heard of them. Let's see... Nicki Minaj is a rapper. Sort of."

"I first heard that name when you said it," I say. Foxx pats my shoulder consolingly.

"Don't worry, I hate her too," she tells me. "This one's my favorite, by the way. Eminem."

"Never heard," I say.

"You have to be playing some sick joke on me! You _HAVE _to have heard of Eminem!" she says. Foxx exhales shakily. "How about we be allies, Kat. Because I have a lot to teach you, and you have a lot to learn."

"Allies," I say, and we shake hands.

"Oh, shit! Literally!" Foxx says a second later. I crack up so hard I have to sit down and roll on the floor.

Spilling onto Foxx's pale skin is a bucket load of horse shit. She glares at me, wipes it off her head -making me nearly wet myself it's so hilarious- and snaps, "This. Is. Not. Funny." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

Suddenly, I stop laughing as something warm and wet runs down my back and ass.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck!" _I yell at the top of my lungs. Now Foxx is laughing at me. She has the kind of laugh that makes everyone around her laugh. So, of course, I start laughing again. We just stand there, me covered in horse piss, stark naked, and Foxx covered in horse shit, laughing her head off.

"This is going to be an interesting Games!" says President Snow as he walks by, looking pointedly at us.

* * *

Hours later, I am definitely not laughing. I showered, so I'm not covered in horse piss and coal dust, but that's not why I'm so angry.

I am in bed with Haymitch, who is a lot faster and rougher than I thought he was, for a middle-aged drunk guy. Now, we're done, thank God, but he's still awake. We're not wearing anything, and I am pressed against his side. He has rough, calloused hands. I know that way too well now. He massages my breasts, and kisses every part of my body. And dammit, he left the lights on.

"We're done," I say, breathing hard. "I gave you what you wanted and more, Abernathy." His beady eyes glare at me as I get out of the bed, sore and unhappy. "If you don't get me sponsors than I swear I'll get you fucking _executed._"

* * *

"Well," says Bethany Flatiron. "How did you sleep?"

Silence. Total silence. I'm shocked when I realize it's from both me and Tramp.

"You should know," snaps the normally even-tempered Tramp. "Is everyone in the Capitol a sex addict, or is that just you and Haymitch?"

What? Tramp had to fuck Bethany Flatiron? Bethany Flatiron, die-hard Taylor Swift fan and fashionista? His eyes tell me that yes, he did.

"Um... um..." starts Bethany, but at the same time Tramp and I kick back our chairs and stomp out of there.

"You all right, Kat?" he asks me in his quiet voice.

"Pretty bruised, but otherwise all right," I tell him flatly. "And you?" He just shrugs and walks to his room.

Damn, I feel like running away to a different room right now too. So I follow him into his room just in time to hear and _see_ it. Tramp has his window wide open, the room fills with the stink of anti-clockingjay spray. He whistles loud and long, so loud that it pierces my ears. He's really out of tune, but I can tell what the beautiful song he's whistling is. Wait, not so beautiful...

"Really, Tramp?" I ask. _"A Thousand Years?_ Like, from Twilight? Breaking Dawn?"He nods shyly and takes a drink of water.

"Do... do you like it?" he asks.

"NO WHAT THE HELL I FUCKING HATE TWILIGHT!" I scream so loud he startles and pours water down his shirt. I take advantage and start hitting him, screaming, "DIE, EDWARD, DIE, JACOB, DIE, BELLA, DIE DIE DIE!"

* * *

**Well! That was a fun chapter to write! I'm not trying to start a war here, but I kind of don't like Twilight. I don't hate it as much as Katrina Van Evermean, though.  
**

**Some rapping acting coming up and alliance forming soon! Hope you like this and my next. As usual, review!**

**Oh, and I forgot. I don't own the following:**

**_In the Hunger Games category: _****The Hunger Games trilogy, Haymitch Abernathy, the prep team, Cinna, or Panem. Also, I don't own Cato of D2!**

_**In the music category: Scream and Shout, **_**Nicki Minaj (though Foxx would tell us that Nicki Minaj is not worthy of the name musician), Eminem, Taylor Swift, or _A Thousand Years. _**

**_In the Twilight category: _I don't own the Twilight saga (and have no desire to!), I don't own Edward Cull-whatever, Jacob Whatever-his-name-is, or Bella I-wish-she-would-go-get-fucked-by-a Swan.  
**

**NO OFFENSE! I JUST FORGOT THE NAMES!**

_**In the quotes category: **_**I don't own the quotes "There's no place like home" or "You. Me. My bed. Tonight. Actually, I forgot who made that up for which of our stories: me or my sister... :D**

**Well, bye! Remember: Twilight poisons your brain and makes you think about shitty love triangles involving vampires, werewolves, and really weepy, clumsy, stupid humans. **


	3. Allies, Enemies, and Eminem

**Sometimes I feel like no one's reading this. Then I check my traffic stats and see that people do read this. But why don't you review?**

**I may not be the best updater because I'm busy with my other fanfics. And my story that I'm writing. It used to be 250 pages, and then I decided that I needed to start a third draft. So yeah. And right now, I'm just going to say that I have two SYOTs and I need tributes, especially guys. The tribute forms are on my profile. The first is for Pieces in the Game, the second is for The FanFiction Games. As usual, hit that review button.**

**Oh, and whoever reviewed this as 'Deity' but is actually a guest, I find your review pretty rude. So I must do some explaining here. I have the same amount of characters as the original Hunger Games book. I just replace them with others. My character that replaces Foxface looks a bit like her, yes. But her name is Susan Rosemary, she practically worships Eminem, and she likes to rap. Yes, she looks fox-like. So what? And for another, the original Foxface's eyes were NEVER MENTIONED! The actress that played Foxface had amber eyes, but FOXFACE DOES NOT!**

**Sorry for the long, ranting author's note... and try to say the chapter title three times fast!**

* * *

Now it's time for training, I guess. Maybe. I stare at the clock, but being from District Twelve, I can't exactly tell time...

PHWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!

A lady blows a whistle right in my ear. "Katrina! We've been blowing this in your ear for ten minutes now! Are you fucking deaf?" Oh. Guess I was spacing out. The guy from Two, the one who like Nicki Minaj, smirks at me and flips me off.

"Hey!" squeaks the little girl from Eleven. "What does that mean!" Uh, it's called the middle finger, idiot. But somehow, I really like this kid. Spunky, I guess you'd call her.

"You need to learn how to do the following: be musical, be deadly, and be intelligent," says the trainer, Atalanta or whatever. "This is important for your private session with the Lovemakers. First, impress them. Then, have sex with them!"

"UGH!" the girl from 11 screams shrilly. We all cover our ears. Her voice is just that high-pitched. "I'm only TWELVE!" Atalanta ignores her and asks if we have any questions.

"You there? The one with the squeaky voice?" Atalanta points at the girl from Eleven. She checks her clipboard. "Oh, Nightlock. Yes?"

"Can I use the bathroom?" asks Nightlock, jumping up and down urgently.

"Uh... sure." We all explode into laughter except Foxx, who seems to be thinking about something. Then she calls out,

"I have a question."

"And what is it?" asks Atalanta.

"Does rapping count as music?" Foxx asks, crossing her arms and tossing her mane of red hair.

"I suppose so..." says Atalanta. "But... you're a girl! And you're white!" I gasp so loud I bet everyone can hear it. I stomp up to Atalanta.

"You do _not _just insult my best friend like that!" I yell in her face. "She's a great rapper! Better than the ones in the Capitol, the pros even." Everyone's quiet. Then Nightlock runs back into the room skipping and screams,

"I'M BACK!" We all stare at her in astonishment.

"Get to work, tributes," says Atalanta weakly. She walks away, taking glances over her shoulder to see if I'll attack her from behind.

"That was great, Kat!" says Foxx, slapping me on the back when I come over to her. She looks around. "Ooh! Found the microphone!" She and I run over to where about fifty mics are plugged into the floor. "This is great!"

I take one and tap on it. "Shit, this is loud," I say into it. Foxx laughs, but then we hear this screechy sound.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!" bellows Cato at the top of his lungs. We all shrug. But then we see Nightlock trying to sing Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys. Oh God. She sounds awful. I run up to the plug-in and unplug her microphone. Everyone laughs at poor Nightlock as she stands there limply holding the mic.

"Yo, Kat!" I hear Foxx's familiar voice say behind me. "I need beat!" I run up to the makeshift stage we're on. Foxx is muttering things into the mic that even I can't hear standing next to her. Warming up, I presume.

"Can't you do acepella? I ask her.

"Well, yeah, but it sounds better with background," Foxx says. "'Kay, this is the instrumental for 'Lose Yourself' by Eminem." She takes out her iPod and shoves an earphone into my right ear.

"I can't do piano!" I say when I hear the introduction. I can imitate some instruments, but not fucking piano!

"That's not piano," says Foxx. She pauses. "At least, I don't think so. Now just listen." I do, and the music's beat pulses through me. I listen two times. Three.

"Got it now?" asks Foxx when I give her back the earphone.

"Think so," I say.

"Then let's get rapping!" she says. Foxx takes the mic off the stand and holds it up to her mouth. I take one off for me. I try to remember the instrumental. I open my mouth. Should I sing it on 'ahh' or 'ooh' or 'la'? I decide on 'ahh'. Since I obviously am not a piano, I can't make its sounds. So I sing them. I swallow once and begin. The first part flows smoothly. The next part's harder. I sing it on a one-syllable word like I know I'm supposed to: fuck. Now is when the actual vocal part start.

"Look," says Foxx into the mic. "If you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment... Would you capture it or just let it slip. Yo!" I nearly stop being the background music when she starts rapping.

"His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, there's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti. He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and read to drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud..."

Holy shit. She's fucking amazing. No wonder she loves rap. She's better than any rapper out there. I've fallen silent. Totally silent, because I've forgotten how to fucking _breathe_. I stand back and stare at Foxx. Her dark red hair sways around as she moves the the music. Her eyes are filled with energy like she truly believes and knows what she's saying. She. Is. AMAZING!

"... You better lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it, you better never let it go. You only get one shot, do not miss you chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo!"

_I'm never going to compare to this! _I internally wail. _Not fair! Not fair! I want to do good for the Lovemakers! Even if they fuck me!_

When Foxx is done with the song in a few minutes, she slides the mic back into the stand and grins at me.

"So, Kat, did I do okay?" Foxx asks me.

"You were incredible! The Lovemakers are going to... well, love you." Me and my ally laugh. Then we grimace, because they're called the Lovemakers for a reason. It's because they have sex with the tributes, obviously.

"You should show me how you sing!" squeals Foxx. I kind of just stand there. "What? What's wrong?"

"You're so _good," _I say. "And I'm just all right."

"So what?" Foxx says. "You can always focus on the other categories. Whatever they are. Intelligence and sexiness."

"You mean intelligence and _deadly-ness_," I say, but I'm laughing with her.

"Come on! You have to know _some _songs!" Foxx says convincingly. "Ooh! How 'bout 'Love The Way You Lie'?" I stare at her with a blank expression. She practically jumps out of her skin. "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT SONG?"

"Shh!" I say. "Yeah, I do, just not the rapping part."

"I'll rap, you sing the hook or whatever it's called!" she says enthusiastically.

"'Kay..." I mutter. I cough into the microphone to clear my throat. Then I start choking on my tongue. I do this quite often, you know. It's a rather serious problem. Suddenly, Foxx starts rapping. While I'm still choking.

"Oh my God, look, what do I see? My really dumb ally is chokin' on her tongue and spittin' on me!

She don't know what rap is, who Eminem is, or what good music is, what the hell there must be something fucking _wrong _with her!

'Least she ain't Nightlock, that freakin' wimpy tribute from Eleven who thinks that she amazing and don't know what the middle finger is.

Whoa something's not right people are looking in my eyeballs like they're tryin' to see in my soul!

Maybe it's 'cause I'm rappin', rappin' 'bout the Games and the tributes and the Cornucopia! Whoa that's a cool word: Cornucopia.

Everyone say that with me, people- why the hell are you callin' the PEACEKEEPERS!"

Since I've recovered from choking, I'm laughing my head off as the Peacekeepers drag poor Foxx to the Peacekeeper Headquarters, where she'll be judged about her crimes and then most likely killed.

I look over my shoulder. President Snow is walking by. He bows his head respectfully to a picture of himself and his wig falls off. He scrambles to stuff it back on his head. "This is going to be a very musical Games!"

Then Nightlock screeches at the top of her lungs: _**"THIS GIRL IS ON FIRRRRRRRRE!"**_

* * *

**You will notice Snow 'just _happens _to be walking by' several times in this fanfic. Just to warn you. **

**Okay, people. I'd love some reviews as usual. And now for the list of what I don't own:**

**THE HUNGER GAMES TRILOGY (of course not...)**

**The THG characters whose names, looks, and personalities stay the same. **

**Nicki Minaj **

**Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys**

**Lose Yourself and Love The Way You Lie by Eminem**

**You know what I do own? Nightlock! She's my replacement for Rue in case you can't tell :p**


	4. Eminem MashupLovemakers

**Hey everyone! If you want a challenge, then say this three times fast: Allies, Enemies, Eminem. I can barely type it right :D I'm saying this aloud, here's what I'm saying: ****_Allies, Enemies, Eminem. Allies, Eminies, Enimem. Allies, Eminies, Eminem. _**

**I bet you can't wait to hear this: it's time for their sessions with the Lovemakers! Great name, right. Anyway, listening to Eminem to get inspiration! Not really, I listen to Eminem's songs all the time... Anyway, people, I love reviews!**

* * *

I have a guilty pleasure, everyone.

I talk in my sleep. Like, a lot.

_Suddenly, the flaming purple zebra jumped on top of me and yelled, "BLEED BITCH BLEED!" I stopped struggling._

_"Hey, that's from a song by Eminem!" I realized. "My friend Foxx likes Eminem. Isn't that song called "Kim"?"_

_"SOOOOO LOOOOOONG, BITCH YOU DID ME SOOOO WROOOOOOONG. I DON'T WANNA GO ONNNN LIVING IN THIS WORRRRRRRRRLD WITHOUT YOU!" screamed the zebra._

_"Kay, then," I said. _

_"Yeah I know we said things did things. You better lose yourself in the music, the moment. Bitch Imma kill you! I'm not looking for extra attention, I want to be just like you. My dad's gone crazy! So lonely and cold, it's like something takes over me, soon as I go home and close the door. See children, drugs are bad, and if you don't believe me, ask your dad. Laugh fuckers it's all funny I can spit in your face when you're standin' across from me. I just drank a fifth of vodka, dare me to drive?"_

_"AHH!" I screamed in the dream. "EMINEM MASHUP!"_

_"Wake up, Kat!" said the zebra. "Go find a white crayon and color a fuckin' zebra!"_

_"Huh?" I said. Then I woke up. _

* * *

"Foxx!" I complain.

She stands beside my bed, rapping her heart out. "I AM, WHATEVER YOU SAY I AM! IF I WASN'T, THEN WHY WOULD I SAY I AM? Oh, you're awake," she adds. "Haha, want me to keep going? I'm practicing for our Lovemaker sessions today."

"NO!" I yell. But she keeps rapping.

"I'M SLIM SHADY, YES , I'M THE REAL SHADY, ALL YOU OTHER SLIM SHADYS ARE JUST IMITATING! You said you was king, you lied through your teeth. I just don't give a fuuuuuck! Hush little baby don't you cry everything's gonna be all right. Imma rip this shit till my bone collapse. BITCH YOU DON'T GET NO LOVE! Every time I write a rhyme, people think it's a crime, to tell what's on my mind. THAT'S WHY THEY CALL ME SLIM SHADY! Don't let them say you ain't beautiful! SO WON'T THE REAL SLIM SHADY PLEASE STAND UP-"

"SHUT UP!" I scream at Foxx. "Fine, goddammit, I'm getting up."

"But you're not the real Slim Shady!" she says.

I get up anyway. Then I scream and leap under the covers. Foxx is laughing her head off. "Put on some clothes, Kat!" she says. "I'm gonna wake up Tramp now."

"What the hell are you doing on my floor?" I ask her, but she's already gone. I can hear her scream out lyrics. I quickly dress in a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut white T-shirt. I slip on a pair of running shoes. Suddenly, Tramp runs down the hallway in boxers screaming as Foxx chases him.

"THEY CAN ALL GET FUCKED JUST STAY TRUE TO YOU!" she bellows. Then she turns to me. "Sexy as hell, that one. He open?"

"Yeah," I say. "But I think he has a crush on me." Foxx grins her normal grin, that one that never really looks happy.

"Well, good. See ya, fuck time," she says, running down the hallway after a nearly naked Tramp. "Come here, District 12! I have condoms!" I crack up and walk to the dining table.

There's a bottle of liquor on the table, a note beside it. _Hey, Prissy. For the Lovemakers. _Oh, good, Foxx left me a a few condoms. I swipe them off the table and slump in my seat. I stir around my scrambled eggs. They look like the time where Tess puked on my favorite shirt. NEVER MIND! NOT HUNGRY! I start to walk to my room.

I hear a really loud whimpering noise and I turn around. "Really, Foxx?" I yell. "Tramp, really? Fucking her in the hallway?" I stomp past them and trip over Foxx's discarded pants. I stand up and then I trip over the happy couple. More laughing. I stomp back to my room. I glare at my reflection.

"Welcome!" says Bethany Flatiron. "Susan, Tramp, and Katrina, you're due in the Remake- ahhhhh!" The look on her face is worth tripping over people having sex.

* * *

"Wow," I say.

"Don't you love it!" squeals my stylist.

"Actually, yeah," I say. "I do." They've cut my hair. It was formerly pretty long, but now it's about three inches past my shoulders. It's cut in layers by my face. In these clothes, I look sexy but bad ass. I really like this. Then I think about being fucked by a Lovemaker. Woohoo.

* * *

He's got white skin, like, pure white, white as snow. Jet black hair. Hands that have been everywhere on me.

Each one of his pale hands is cupping one of my breasts. "You're so sexy..." he purrs. _Really? Get the hell off me!_ I think.

Now you get to watch her have sex with a Capitolian, guess that's why they call them the Lovemakers.

* * *

"Haymitch," I snap. "Thanks for the condoms, but can you get me some mouthwash?" My mentor stares blearily at me. "Never mind," I say. "You don't want to know."

I run to the bathroom and throw up over and over. My mouth tastes disgusting. I have bruises. I have fucking bite marks, for goodness's sake. I hobble back into my room. I flop into bed and groan. Then I get up with a start. "FOXX!"

"Hey," she murmurs. "Sorry. I kind of fell asleep in your bed. God, I think I'm fucking dying." She sticks an earbud into my ear. Of course, an Eminem song. "Stay Wide Awake," mutters Foxx. "That's what it's called. Then a new song comes on. "This next one is called "Go To Sleep"." I start laughing. Foxx realizes.

"Eminem must be bipolar," I say. For some reason, we laugh like it's the funniest thing ever. Suddenly Nightlock, the puny little girl from 11, walks in.

"I thought that having sex was kissing!" she whimpers. I choke on my tongue again I'm laughing so hard. "Kaaaat, Fooooooxx, I don't feel goooooood," she whines.

"Fine," I say between laughs. "Come in here and listen to music with us." Nightlock grins at me and skips in. "Eew, Foxx, what's on your sweatpants?" Foxx looks down and screams in disgust. I laugh even harder as Foxx runs to the bathroom, stripping all the way.

"You wanna know my favorite song?" asks Nightlock, hopping up and down.

"Sure, why not," I say.

"Mary Had A Little Lamb," she says sweetly. I am at a loss for words.

"What the hell, I was just having sex with some prick

Who insisted that I fucking suck his dick

And now what do I see?

Nightlock and the girl Haymitch calls Prissy

Talking about music- Mary Had a Little Lamb?

Mary had a fucking lamb,

Don't-give-a-damn,

fucking lamb,

Mary had a fucking lamb its fleece was white as shit."

President Snow throws roses on us. He just happens to be walking by- "This is going to be a very exciting Games!" Foxx decides she's bored and runs after him, screaming at the top of her lungs:

"I'M THE REAL SLIM SHADY!"

* * *

**Sorry for the shortness. Hope you liked it. Damn, the list of things I don't own is going to be long...**

**Things I don't own**

**The Hunger Games**

**Mary Had A Little Lamb by A. Stupid Littlekid (haha kidding)**

**Eminem**

**The following songs by Eminem (in order from Foxx's mashup): **

**"Kim", ****"Love The Way You Lie" , ****"Lose Yourself", ****"Kill You", ****"Beautiful", ****"My Dad's Gone Crazy", ****"Deja Vu", ****"The Kids", ****"No Apologies", ****"Stan", ****"My Mom", ****"The Way I Am", ****"The Real Slim Shady", ****"Not Afraid", "Just Don't Give A Fuck", "Mockingbird", "Till I Collapse", "No Love", "Criminal", "I'm Back", "Stay Wide Awake" or "Go To Sleep".**

**Told you it was long... and yeah, I'm a fan of Eminem. See you soon for the interview preperations!**


	5. Negative Eighteen, EVERYONE SIT DOWN!

**Hey, thanks for reviewing, to the TWO OF YOU. And guest-who-likes-to-be-known-as-Deity, I have two things to say for you... One, if you're going to review so much, get an account. Trust me, it's worth it. Two, what do you mean by "Ok..."? At least tell me what I'm doing wrong. Oh yeah, and Catching Fireflies, glad to know how much you like this fanfic. I don't think this chapter will live up to Chapter Four, but I'm going to try.**

* * *

"Yo, we should see what our scores are," says Foxx, running back into the room. She has blood on her hands.

"What the fuck! Foxx, you're bleeding!" I exclaim, trying to help her. I get tangled in the covers of my bed and I fall on the floor.

"Nope," she says, wiping her hands on the wall. "I tackled Snow to the ground and he spit blood on me. I was pretty impressed by that. I mean, I can spit at people, but I can't spit blood. So I asked him how to, and he gave me a lesson." To demonstrate, she coughs up blood all over my floor. "See?"

"Lovely," I say sarcastically. "'Kay, let's get the scores." I'm really wondering about mine. For my talent, I walked in and stripped. I probably got a zero. Foxx tells me that she rapped. Of course she did.

"Maybe I should've spit blood at them!" she says enthusiastically.

"Maybe not," I mutter.

"Shut up," she says. "You're just mad because I fucked with your district partner."

"Nah," I say. "You can have him." I shudder, thinking of him and the whole "Twilight" incident.

We sit down on a couch. Or, at least, we think it's a couch.

"What the hell!" screams the couch drunkenly.

"Oh, sorry, Haymitch," I say. I decide to sit on the floor instead, next to Nightlock. She practically jumps into my lap.

"Haymitch is scaring meeeeee," she whines. "Save me!"

"Too bad for you," I say, looking at the screen. Julius Sexyguy, the interviewer, is reading our scores. His hair is fiery red, along with his skin, eyebrows, eyelashes, lips, and eyes. He looks like a demon.

"Glimmer NoLastName has a score of 10.

Marvel NoLastName has a score of 7.

Clove NoLastName has a score of 8.

Cato NoLastName has a score of 9."

All I can think is, _Wow, now I'm glad I have a last name... _

District Three and District Four pass by. District Four both gets good scores, but both tributes from Three have twos, because they stuck wires up the Lovemakers asses.

They sound like good allies.

"Foxx-"

"You don't have a last name?" I ask Foxx, bewildered. Then I remember that Foxx's real name is Susan Rosemary. Why did Julius Sexyguy call her Foxx?

"I changed my name," she whispers back to me. "Susan Rosemary sounds like a little old lady. Now shut the fuck up, I want to hear my score."

"... has a score of 8."

"Eight!" she squeals. "I got an eight!" She group-hugs both me and Nightlock.

"I'm probably gonna get a one," I say. "At least the tributes from Three did something interesting." We anxiously sit through the scores until it gets to District Eleven.

"Yo, Nightlock," says Foxx. "What did you do?"

"I sang a pretty song!" she says. "Starships, were meant to FLYYYYYYY!" Foxx's mouth falls open.

"FUCK YOU!" she screams. "NICKI MINAJ SUCKS!"

"I thought it was by Eminem," says Nightlock, not knowing why Foxx is mad. "I wanted to be like you." Her last sentence is drowned out by Foxx screaming

"EMINEM DOES NOT SOUND LIKE A SLUTTY GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HOE!" I cover my ears.

"Thresh NoLastName with a score of 7.

Nightlock NoLastName with a score of 3."

"THREEEEEEE?" screams Nightlock. "That's not faaaaaaaair!"

"Proves that Eminem is better than Nicki Minaj," comments Foxx. "Shut your trap, Nightlock. It's time for Kat to get her score."

I bite my lip. I'm very nervous. So nervous, in fact, that I choke on my tongue. But I still hear my score.

"Katrina Van Evermean with a score of negative 18."

* * *

"These are eight inches tall!" I say. "I'm six feet tall now!"

"Tall is attractive!" chirps Bethany Flatiron. "Now, put on this dress." I put on the said dress.

"What the fuck!" I scream as the dress turns to metal. "My chest looks fucking huge! I don't need fucking armor at my interview!"

"I know, I know!" says Bethany obliviously. "It's a beauty, isn't it? But your stylist isn't having you wear that. This is just a small taste." I groan and take a step toward her so I can slap her. Then I fall down.

"OWWWWW!" I scream. I clutch at my ankle like it's broken.

"Maybe we should get you some shorter heels."

* * *

"So, Prissy," says Haymitch. "Your interview angle. I've gotta good one for you." I wait. Too bad Bethany didn't buy the the whole broken-ankle thing.

"Well? What is it?" I snap.

"Like I'd tell you," chortles Haymitch, slopping liquor down his shirt.

"You have too! It's the law!" I say. I doubt it's really a law, but whatever.

"Well, as your friend Foxx would say, to quote Eminem, I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUUUUUUUUCK!" Haymitch says. Then he passes out.

I hate having a drunk for a mentor.

* * *

"Yo, Kat, wanna do a group act?" asks Foxx, bounding into my room.

See, the interviews aren't just interviews. The tributes, either alone or in a group perform their talents for the Capitol crowd. Then they're interviewed.

"What?" I say sourly, because I'm still pissed that she got an 8 and I got a -18. "So you can rap while me, Nightlock, Brittany, and Kevin sit around looking pretty?"

Brittany and Kevin are the tributes from Three. I told you I liked their spunk. Sticking wires up the Lovemakers asses and then electrocuting them. You got to admire the guts. Brittany is my age with light brown hair, gray eyes, and a mysterious smile. Kevin is a year younger than me with a mop of dark hair, glasses, and a serious face.

"Nah," says Foxx. "Kevin didn't want to do a group thing. He's doing an act alone. But Brittany and Nightlock want to. You'd be all alone..." Foxx hints. She has a maniacal smile on her face.

"Shit, Foxx," I say. "Are you high off Eminem?"

"Yes," she says. "Anyway, you won't just be standing there. I've got choreography." I groan. I'm not fat and lazy, but I don't feel like dancing in front of a ton of Capitol people. "And the chorus of the rap song is singing. You, Nightlock, and Brittany are gonna sing that. Nightlock can hit those high background vocal notes, Brittany and you can do the melody. Come on, we'll be great!"

"I don't even know what song we're doing," I mutter under my breath. Foxx grins, oblivious to my words.

"And at the end, we'll spit blood at the Capitolites!" she says happily. She takes a chain out from under her shirt. On it is a dog tag that has "Foxx" engraved into it and a metal whistle. She blows into the whistle. "Come on, D3 and D11!" She turns back to me as Nightlock and Brittany come running. "And I'm D5. And you're D12." She starts laughing like she's said something funny. I stare at her blankly. Her mouth drops open.

"D12?" she says. "Never heard of 'em?" Poor Foxx looks astonished. "You know, the group Eminem was in? The only white guy?" Foxx smacks her forehead. "Kat, like I said, you have a lot to learn." Nightlock and Brittany run in. Brittany tosses Foxx a small object. Foxx fiddles with it and then blows into it. I hear a very quiet note. Oh, it must be one of those things that plays notes. Mind-blank... forgot what they're called.

"Mmkay, that's the note you start on. Here're the lyrics," says Foxx.

"Maybe play the song for us?" I ask. "Cause I never heard it."

"Oh," she says. She finds one of the Capitol's music players. Instantly, a song starts playing. "STEP BY STEP, HEART TO HEART, LEFT RIGHT LEFT. WE ALL FALL DOWN." Then they're a ton of high notes. "LIKE TOY SOLDIERS." The song keeps playing. First verse of Eminem rapping. Chorus. Eminem rapping. Chorus.

"There," says Foxx. "Don't you just love this song? I know I do!" For once, I agree with her, it is a good song. A great one.

"I wanted to do Mary Had A Little Lamb!" whines Nightlock out of the blue.

"Oh, someone wanted an Eminem mashup? Okay!" says Foxx happily. She takes a deep breath.

"HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? Jimmy can crack corn, but I don't care. HEEEE'S MENTALLY ILL FROM AMITYVILLE! You are now allowed to officially slap bitches. With more pain in my brain than in the eyes of a little girl inside of a plane aimed at the World Trade. I'm a prime candidate to receive the drug addict trait. Brain damage, ever since the day I was born. MAKE HIM EAT EVERY KARAT, DON'T FUCK WITH DAD!"

"Stop!" screeches Nightlock.

"You don't, want to fuck with Shady. Why? Cause Shady will fucking kill you. Just get high until the kids get home from two homes, relax. I'm alive again, more alive than I have been in my entire life. That's why they call me Slim Shady!"

"Miss Foxx?" asks a voice from the doorway. It's President Snow. "It's time for your blood-spitting lesson." Foxx runs up to him and spits blood all over his face. President Snow is so frail that it knocks him down. Foxx stands on top of his body.

"I'M SLIM SHADY, YES I'M THE REAL SHADY, ALL YOU OTHER SLIM SHADYS ARE JUST IMITATING! SO WON'T THE REAL SLIM SHADY PLEASE STAND UP? PLEASE STAND UP? PLEASE STAND UP?" She remains standing. "Biggest fan in the room always stays standing," she's told us. We all sit down. She moves onto the verse, and we stand again.

"DID I TELL YOU TO STAND UP?" Foxx bellows.

* * *

**Hey, if you like this, then check out my other Hunger Games parody! It's a collection of parodies I wrote. It's called Random Hunger Games Parodies. **

**Another really long list...**

**Things I Don't Own**

**The Hunger Games**

**Mary Had A Little Lamb**

**D12 (I felt like I had to mention them, since Kat's from District Twelve and Foxx is obsessed with Eminem)**

**Nicki Minaj (I agree with Foxx... I think she sucks...) and "Starshits". I mean, "Starships".**

**Eminem**

**The following songs by Eminem**

**"Just Don't Give A Fuck", "Like Toy Soldiers", "Kim", "Jimmy Crack Corn", "Amityville", "Drug Ballad", "My Dad's Gone Crazy", "Deja Vu", "Brain Damage", "Mockingbird", "Kill You", "No Love", "I'm Back", or "The Real Slim Shady".**


	6. The Bloody, Moshed-Up Interviews

**First of all, I'd going to thank the reviewers! And reply, because I forgot which ones I actually replied to...**

**Ruetheday: FIVE REVIEWS? You are awesome! Extra bonus awesome points for being an Eminem fan, too. Glad I made you laugh! :)**

**Catching Fireflies: Yeah, I wanted her to have a ridiculous score. And anyone else noticed how much they spit blood in The Hunger Games? Just in the first book, but still, I thought that was weird. **

**shady66730: Bonus awesome points for you too! Yep... I based Foxx off me. Except I don't fuck people in hallways... **

**MaximumAngel1: Insane? ...Yeah, I try. **

**absentee-note: Thanks for reviewing, glad you thought it was funny!**

**OH MY FUCKING GOD! I FOUND THE PERFECT PICTURE! Not really, but any Eminem picture is perfect for this. :)**

**And also... I'm really sorry that this chapter sucks. ****Cause I got writer's block. *Starts jammin' out to "Writer's Block" by Royce Da 5'9 and Eminem* Shoutout time! Since I'm doing this with my other stories.**

**Thanks to those of you who favorited: Catching Fireflies, Crummywriter, and Ruetheday. **

**Thanks to those of you who followed: MaximumAngel1 and Ruetheday. **

**Thanks to those of you who reviewed: nevergone4ever, Catching Fireflies (4), Deity (Guest) (3), shady66730, Ruetheday (5), MaximumAngel1, and absentee-note. **

* * *

Couches are very comfy.

Does anyone else love couches as much as I do?

Well... I only love them when they're actual couches.

I'm sprawled out on the couch on my back, half asleep. The lights in the living room are dim, and I really want to fall asleep. But then I'll be late for my interview.

"Fuck interviews," I mutter.

"Fuck you," says a voice. From... BENEATH ME!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" I scream, falling off the couch. "No no no!"

"Do you normally have your face on people's dicks?" asks the 'couch'.

"YES!" I scream at the top of my lungs, scrambling away from the couch. "I MEAN, NO! I DIDN'T MEAN TO, I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

"What's wrong?" asks Tramp, running into the living room. I stare at him for a second.

"What's wrong?" I repeat. "We're in the Panemic Games! And I just nearly sucked Haymitch's dick!"

"Well, why would you want to do that?" asks Tramp matter-of-a-factly. "That sounds gross." I can NOT believe this dude. I sigh and stand up.

"Haymitch, let's do the world a favor," I tell him.

"Ooh! What?" asks Haymitch excitedly. I try to think of something to say. Then I think of it!

"Quit acting like a couch. Some people don't want to be scarred for life," I tell Haymitch calmly. Then I think about what Foxx told me. I kneel in front of Haymitch, fill my mouth full of blood and spit, and spit it all in his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" yells Haymitch, rolling around on the ground. "STOP DROP ROLL! THERE'S A FIRE HERE!"

I figure he must be pretty wasted to say that, so I just leave him there, blood-covered, rolling around like his clothes are on fire.

* * *

"OOH! LOOK AT THIS DRESS!" screams Flavius. "IT'S SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! PUT IT ON HER!"

Thank God I got earplugs. Before I went to interview preparations, Foxx gave me some. She told me that while my preps were prepping Tramp, they shattered a window they were so loud.

Suddenly, someone shoves a dress over my head. Only, because of all my weightlifting in training (I weightlifted piles of mics with Foxx) it won't fit over my now-muscled shoulders.

"OH NO!" screams Venia. "WE'LL JUST HAVE TO USE ANOTHER ONE! CINNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I can hear that even with my earplugs in.

* * *

A few hours later, we all sit in a line. Me, Foxx, Brittany, and Nightlock are going last in our interview, so we get to watch everyone else.

Foxx, for once, is not covered in blood or rapping. She's wearing a fairly low-cut jade-green dress that goes to just above her knees. Her red hair is straightened and loose.

Brittany's wearing a light gray dress that falls the her ankles. It has very thin straps, but you can't see them because she's wearing some kind of sweatery thing over it woven out of wires and white cotton. Slap in the Lovemaker's faces! Haha!

Nightlock is wearing a hot pink blouse and a short little black skirt. She looks much younger than she is. Than again, she doesn't know what the middle finger is, so whatever.

And me? Bethany was right when she said that the disgusting practice dress was only a small taste of Cinna's "brilliance". I'm wearing a seemingly simple white dress that falls to my mid-thighs. It's pretty low-cut and sexy-looking. I guess Cinna wants me memorable. My hair is tied back in a loose bun.

I really hope that I'm seen as more than that rapper girl's friend. I would never have been noticed by the Capitol if not for her. And the horses that shitted on us.

"Are you nervous?" I hear Brittany asking Nightlock. It's a little obvious, considering that she's wiggling around in her seat like a worm on a fish hook. Not that I'd know. In District Twelve, we fish with our hands. We're just so rustic and awesome badass like that. Once I caught a snapping turtle with my bare hands. I won't mention how scared I was then.

"Let's welcome... the Careeeeers!" shouts the interview host, Julius Sexyguy. "Glimmer, Marvel, Cato, Clove, Unnamed Girl, and Unnamed Boy, all in the NoLastName Family!"

They get a huge round of applause. The applause rapidly stops as they walk onstage, though.

Glimmer wears a sparkly pink... one-piece bathing suit? She's drenched in glitter, and her hair has been dyed electric pink. She grins at the crowd and waves. A tidal wave of sparkles and sequins rain down on the Capitol audience, and I snicker as I watch them try to get it off of their outfits.

Marvel wears bright blue and neon green swimming trunks for some reason. He's not as glitter-covered as Glimmer, but he has hideous, horribly applied makeup all over him.

Cato is wearing -Nightlock lets out a shriek- nothing at all, except a bunch of carefully placed knives. Youch, that would really hurt... But since he's a Nicki Minaj fan, me and Foxx have no love for him.

That reminds me of our insane party before we got ready for the interviews. We ordered a bunch of food and played Eminem songs, which was THE BEST. THING. EVER. The funny thing is, Foxx made us listen to "No Love" and skipped over Lil Wayne's verse so she could get to the Eminem part. I try not to burst out laughing as Clove walks out.

Clove is wearing the most revealing dress I've ever seen in my life -like, even more revealing than my dress, which is saying something. It's orange and bright purple, which looks so disgusting that not even the Capitol could like it.

The unnamed District Four girl and boy wear fishing nets with holes cut in them for the head and arms. They look ridiculous.

Suddenly, music starts playing. Foxx groans and puts her head in her hands. "Someone shoot me," she mutters.

They're dancing to "Starshits" I mean, STARSHIPS, by Nicki Minaj.

Foxx is groaning like she's going to puke. The Careers are dancing weirdly. Nightlock is whimpering and hiding under her seat. Brittany is shaking a fist at the general direction of the stage. I'm screaming "STOP STOP STOP STOP!" at the top of my lungs.

Suddenly, there's a loud scream, and we all look up and Cato stops dancing and stand there wailing as blood trickles down his bare legs. "I CUT OFF MY DICK!" he screams, and runs offstage.

The Capitol is in hysterics. But even the thousands of Capitol citizens aren't laughing as much as our alliance. Foxx is pounding her fists on the ground and laughing like a hyena. The rest of us are standing up and clapping.

The Careers look at the stage floor between fingers over their eyes. When they see the gore of it all, they scream, "CATO!" and run offstage.

"Attention! Attention! We still need to do... interviews?" says Julius Sexyguy pitifully as the interviewees run away.

The rest of the interviews just fly by. Foxx's district partner stands there nervously, twiddling his thumbs. The District Six pair looks high. They probably are high. The District Seven pair is a good one, they look pretty strong. They were the strong, silent type- as in, they skipped their talents and just whispered answers for their interviews. The District Ten boy trips going up onstage and breaks his leg.

"MOMMY!" he screams at the top of his voice. "SAVE ME!" He's hustled away from the crowd quickly by guards.

Thresh, the dude from 11, Nightlock's partner, apparently is very talented. He walks up to Mr. Sexyguy and breaks his arm with his bare hands.

I kind of want him in our alliance now, but it's too big as it is.

Now it's our turn.

We walk onstage, Nightlock trembling even more by the moment. Foxx looks pretty confident, and I try to also. But then something unexpected happens.

Foxx ditches the plan.

She grabs a mic off the stage floor disturbingly close to Cato's little accident. She grins in that weird, cunning way that she does when she's got a good crazy idea.

"I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the Not-So-United Districts of Panem. And to the Capitol, for which it stands. One nation under Snow. Indivisible with tesserae and sexy bakers for all. It feels so shitty to be here," Foxx says into the mic.

I recognize this... this is a changed version of Eminem's "Mosh"! What the fuck is Foxx doing? I think as she finishes she first verse. Then it's the chorus.

"Come along, follow me, as I lead through the darkness, as I provide just enough spark that we need to proceed..." Foxx says into the mic. I kind of tune her out furiously.

We were going to do a group act! And she ditched us! She actually ditched us! I really feel like going to form an alliance with Thresh, Brittany, Kevin and Nightlock, and leaving Foxx to die in the bloodbath.

But something suddenly cuts through my furious fog... Foxx saying this. "Stomp, push, shove, mush, fuck SNOW!" She's flipping the middle finger at the crowd. Suddenly, I get what she's trying to do.

She's defying the Capitol!

When she's done with the song, a few dim-witted Capitolites clap. Around ten of them, until they're shushed by the slightly less stupid people who know that Foxx is technically threatening them.

I walk up to Foxx and grab the mic from her. Foxx looks startled, but I whisper, "I know what I'm doing."

I say into the mic, "She means it. And so do we." I gesture to my alliance. Then I think of something that will make us seem even deadlier. "And to all the tributes, fuck you too!" I flip them off and drop the mic.

Foxx promptly picks it up. "EMINEM MASHUP!" she yells, which is so loud that I nearly cringe. "Here goes. I'm supposed to be the solider who never blows his composure. AND SINCE BIRTH, I'VE BEEN CURSED WITH THIS CURSE TO JUST CURSE! I've done my best to give you nothing less than perfectness. But if I offended you? Good, cause I STILL don't give a fuck! And love is 'evol' spell it backwards, I'll show ya." She takes a breath, because the Capitolians are giving us a standing ovation. Then she tosses the mic to me. I swallow.

"YOU BETTER LOSE YOURSELF IN THE MUSIC, THE MOMENT!" I yell. "And when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn. You want them when they don't want you, soon as they do feelings change. Success is my ONLY motherfuckin' option, FAILURE'S NOT. Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano. All those who look down on me, I'M TEARIN' DOWN YOUR BALCONY!" I point at the balcony where the Lovemakers sit. Maybe one day we'll wake up and this'll all be just a dream." I know I got some lyrics wrong, I didn't memorize it as good as Foxx.

The audience is going wild as I drop the mic on the stage. Me and Foxx high five each other and everyone in our alliance.

Julius Sexyguy sits us down on a couch next to his interviewer's chair. "So, that was very interesting! Foxx, anything you'd like to say to anyone at home?"

"Well, he can't hear me," admits Foxx. "But I want to say something to my brother."

"Oh! Is he deaf?" asks Julius Sexyguy. "How terrible. He can't hear you rapping." The Capitol claps.

"Nope, he's dead," says Foxx sadly. "Well, I have two brothers. One's only six. His name is Matthew. The other one was older than me."

"What was his name?" asks Julius.

"Stan," says Foxx promptly. The Capitolians start laughing at that. Stan? As in, from that one song by Eminem? Her brother?

"And Kat!" says Julius. "To be honest, I didn't expect too much from you, what with you score of negative eighteen from the Lovemakers!"

"They were probably too drowsy after my lay that they wrote -18 instead of 18," I say smoothly. More clapping.

"And people back home you want to shout out?" he asks.

"My best friend, Tom," I say. "He gave me these tattoos." I point out my tattoos, and I get a round of applause. "And my little sister, Tess. Even though she's a brat."

"Very nice!" says Julius. "So, Nightlock-" Nightlock is trembling and curled up. "OK, let's skip you... Brittany! What do you think of the competition now?"

"Well," says Brittany. "I don't think much of it." Julius gives her a questioning look.

To that, Brittany says in a squeaky voice, "I CUT OFF MY DICK!"

* * *

**I'm sorry if that wasn't very good. I hope you like it, though! Review review review! Sorry, I want to know what you think of this chapter. :D**


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